


The Colors You Wear

by The Elder Gays (Katanachan)



Category: South Park
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Child Abuse, Derogatory Language, Developing Relationship, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Angst, Found Families, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, Polyamory, Slurs, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, but also some fluff, creekenny, established creek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katanachan/pseuds/The%20Elder%20Gays
Summary: For every type of love or loss, a line appears on your skin.White for familial love, yellow for friendship, black for love that has died, blue for unrequited, pink for romantic, and red for true love.  Very rarely does anyone see red lines.And for Kenny, love starts small, as many important moments do, with a smile and an offer.





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> We've been working on this story for a while (as well as a bunch of others that are either new or needing to be updated), and this year we're determined to bring lots of content!
> 
> This story has some pretty dark themes and moments, so buckle up, fam. Thank you Harmony for serving up another fantastic prompt~
> 
> The amazing and wonderful Furunui @ tumblr did some absolutely heartbreaking art for the opening scene which we've included in the story. Thank you so much, Fu!!! <3 
> 
> We hope you enjoy this! It's a little different from our usual brand of story, but we're quite fond of this one. It should be five parts total.  
> Thank you guys!

Kenny is eleven. It’s sometime after midnight and he is wide awake because his parents are screaming at each other in the next room. His eyes stare blankly at his ceiling, at the pinned up pictures of places he wants to visit, his escape and way to cope with the constant fighting happening around him.

He rolls over and that’s when he hears it.

Karen's voice.

He's lucky he hears it at all, her voice so small and frail. Kenny instantly sits up and he's out of his bed before he can understand what's happening. His feet take him to the door, and he knows he shouldn't go out there. The three children have a rule: _when they fight, we don't leave our rooms._ _  
_

They lock themselves inside and lock them **_out_**.

But he hears her again, her sobs, and it powers him through the fear that's paralyzed him. He twists the handle and he's out the door in a moment later.

Karen is on the ground, she's crying, and his mom is yelling at his intoxicated father. Kenny runs to her, slides down to his knees and grabs her face, checking her for bruises. When he finds one on her cheek, he sees red.

 _How dare they,_ his mind roars as his fingers tighten around Karen. Her shoulders are shaking and she appears even smaller than he knows she is. _  
_

Kenny doesn't know which one of them did it. Why Karen is out of bed. Why she braved the outside world while they were under the influence and fighting. But it doesn't matter. Rage fills him, and if looks could kill, Kenny would have to bury two bodies tonight. Glaring dangerously at the people who were _supposed_ to guide and love them, he feels the words leave his mouth without much preamble. “Who did this? Which one of you deadbeats did this!?” he shouts at them, standing and blocking as much of his little sister as he can with his lithe frame.

Karen's little hands are griping his shirt hem, begging him not to. Kenny can hear her pleading with him to stay away from the monsters who wear their parents’ images. Her chimes of _'Kenny please don’t!'_ are lost in his blind haze of anger. His mother turns first, screaming at him to ‘ _not talk to them like that'_ following that up with _'I raised you to have more respect!'_ Kenny ignores the irony in the word _respect,_ since parents should love and respect their children enough to not lay their hands on them. He laughs bitterly at her words as he shakes his head. It's that moment that Kenny freezes as she's quickly pushed aside, his father in all his drunk glory coming into view. A man too tall and too large for an eleven-year-old to ever dream of facing alone.

But he does. Kenny clenches his jaw and steels his resolve. Whatever this man can do to him, he can take. If he backs down now, the rest of his father’s pent up anger and aggression will only be taken out more on Karen and possibly his mother. Kenny steps closer as he presses his chest out as much as he possibly can and tries to stop the shaking in his knees. He's faced down villains on the streets of South Park, he's stared down Cthulhu; he can take this.

Kenny's mind realizes too late that this is different, that maybe he can't take what his father is about to dish out. That first hit feels like his entire world is shattered. The illusion that his life could ever be normal again falls and breaks around him when his body hits the floor in a crumpled heap, blood spattering onto the filthy linoleum.

Karen's voice is shrill as she screams his name. Luckily, Kenny can see Kevin rushing down the narrow hallway; he can't blame his older brother for not coming sooner, his room is the farthest away and he may not have heard the commotion. Once Kevin is close enough, he immediately covers their sister, shielding Karen with his own body as Kenny gets the brunt of the beating. Both of them scream for their father to stop, the mix of their voices sounding hollow as Kenny’s ears fight to work against the pounding. His senses want to black out and Kenny can taste only copper in his mouth. He's died before, so many times he's lost count. And all of those deaths had been unique in the way the universe had maimed him. But this? This is far worse than anything Kenny McCormick has ever experienced in his life.

Kenny doesn't allow his father to move on to his siblings. The moment it appears Kenny is down for the count, his father's eyes darting to the other two huddled in the corner, Kenny finds the strength to move. There's a fire deep down inside of him that he refuses to allow his father to extinguish, and it's the flame that he holds for his brother and sister. Kenny would die for them.

"Leave them alone," Kenny hears himself and can barely recognize the sound of his own voice. Blood drips from his mouth as he wobbles, trying his best to find his footing. "You massive dickhole."

The attention is back on him and each hit, each kick, each painful word from his father’s drunken mouth, he can take. Because it spares his brother and his sister from this.

His father doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied that Kenny won’t stand up again. He speaks, _spits_ some words that fall on Kenny's deafened ears, turning to yell something at Kevin and Karen. The man leaves in a huff, and the sound of the back door being ripped open then slammed is loud enough to penetrate the buzzing in Kenny's head. His mother has the decency to look like she hadn’t wanted this to happen, but it did.  She follows after his father and the children are left in the wake of this disaster, alone.

Their entire world lost to this one moment.  Changed forever.

Kevin helps Karen lift Kenny, and the two of them take him to his room. They work in tandem to cover his bruises and cuts with colorful band-aids.  It’s Karen that gasps as she notices the marks first. Where there were four white marks on Kenny’s skin previously, now there are two white and two black.

She covers her eyes and sobs into her tiny hands as Kevin finishes patching up his little brother, attempting to fight back his own tears.

Kenny pulls his knees close to his chest as the pain in his body becomes almost unbearable.  The nights events are tumbling through his mind like a horrible horror movie. He can’t stop thinking about what caused the pain he’s currently suffering from, no matter how much his siblings try to comfort him.

Kenny wants to wish this nightmare away, but nightmares don’t go away so easily, the black marks on his arm serving as a permanent reminder for the rest of his life.

Kevin pulls him into a hug, his arm reaching for Karen as well. The three of them huddle together alone on the floor of Kenny’s room.

“We love you,” his older brother cries into sandy blond hair, squeezing his little siblings in his arms. “I don’t care if they don’t. _We do._ ”

Karen nods softly, nuzzling her face against Kenny’s chest. “Thank you, Kenny. We love you so much.”

Tears finally fall down his cheeks, a broken sob wracking his form as he clings to his siblings for dear life.

\-------

It is common knowledge to the people of South Park that Kenny McCormick is the village bicycle. Now, whether this has any foundation or proof, no one knew, but like any other good rumor, they don't exactly _need_ truth or facts to spread the news.

Perhaps the rumors are based on the plethora of colorful marks marring the blond’s arms, or the countless times he has been seen sneaking in and out of other boy’s windows at the crack of dawn.  It could have even just spawned from the idea that living on the other side of the tracks instantly made you hit your knees for any type of currency, and Kenny ‘Do Anything For a Dollar’ McCormick seems unable to escape the stereotype.

Whispers of, _"I saw McCormick slipping out of Marsh's window last night,_ " paired with, " _Oh my_ **_God_** _, wasn't he over at Kyle’s house the night before?_ " and alongside the giggles of, " _NO! He was at Stotch's, too! Aaahh guh, what a man-whore._ " No matter which hallway Kenny turns down, he is assaulted with comments that sting almost as bad as the glass he pried from his cheek the night he went to stay with Stan.

The school doesn’t know the truth, none of them understand why Kenny plays hopscotch with his friends’ homes, sneaking in instead of using the front door. Because how could he explain that he needs a warm place to sleep without the fear of being woken up in the middle of the night to a random beating?

Kenny has become the outlet for his families discourse, and as much as Kevin and Karen attempt to shelter him from said fury, the moment his parents discovered their marks had turned dark, they focused everything bad in their life on their middle child.

His friends ask why it he doesn't tell the truth. Why he allows the rest of the town to believe such horrible things about him. But Kenny simply smiles every time and explains that it is better this way. Something about him isn't normal and if he can keep that hidden, masked by these ridiculous rumors, well, then that would be his life.

Once, just once, Kenny attempts to open up to them about how he really feels. His blue eyes moist when he turns to Kyle and whispers, "Why…can't I just be happy like you guys?" He feels himself frowning as he glances up at his friends in the middle of playing video games. Kyle and Stan are just being _them_ , pushing and shoving, being the dorks they are, and it triggers a deep seated pain in Kenny's heart. He swears he can feel the two yellow marks that deeply connected him to how he feels for them twinge at the pain.

"You can just smile and laugh like nothing's really wrong, no hidden agendas. But," there is a pause as he runs his fingers over the bandaids hiding the truth, hiding the death of his parents’ love. "I don't think I'm wired that way."

There is pity in their eyes and Kenny never wants this look to be directed at him again. Their eyes hurt more than anytime his father cursed him, wishing he had never been born. Calling him ungrateful, ridiculing him for any minor detail he faltered on. Seeing the pity makes him want to throw up, his breakfast lurching painfully in his stomach. Kyle and Stan are meant to be stability, to represent everything good in his life; they aren't meant to be exposed to the darkness he hides inside. In that moment, Kenny decides he will smile instead of letting those words escape, lest the yellow marks for two of his best friends somehow be tainted by them.

\-----

It starts small, as many important moments do, with a smile and an offer.

A particularly bad night at home drives Kenny to leave and wander the streets of South Park alone. After what could be hours or minutes of wandering aimlessly around the town, his feet carry him to Tweak Bros., his mind catching up when the bright lights inside snap him back to reality. The little bell over the door signals his arrival, and the first thing that hits him is the comforting, warm smell of freshly baked bread. Kenny can feel his stomach twist in hunger, reminding him that he left home before dinner. The boy reaches into his pocket and finds, besides lint and a few strange objects left behind, that he had only two dollars to his name. A sigh passes between his lips as he pockets his hands and walks toward the pair at the counter.  
  
It is obvious that Craig and Tweek are deep in conversation, but over what, he isn’t sure. Perhaps something along the lines of, ‘ _Oh honey, you’re so cute when you do this_ ’ or ‘ _Shut up, Craig, I am not!'_ The speculated exchange makes Kenny smile as he walks closer, finally able to hear the real conversation.

“I’m telling you, if w-we camp out in this area around that time w-we’re going to see ManBearPig!” Tweek grumbles out despite Craig wearing a look mixed between disbelief and amusement.

“Are you _soooooo_ cereal?” Craig mocks. Tweek wrinkles his nose at the Al Gore impression before his boyfriend pokes it, earning himself an annoyed squeak from the puffy haired boy.

“I’m fucking serious, Craig! ManBearPig is real, and I’m going to prove it!” There is a pause when Kenny stops right in front of them, Tweek blinking owlishly at him before smiling, “Oh, h-hey Kenny, what brings you here?”

Craig’s green eyes turn to the newcomer as he lifts one of his eyebrows questionably, and Kenny feels his stomach bubble.

With a carefree laugh, he unzips his parka and shrugs, ”You know me, always on the move. Flitting from one place to another.” Though the statement sounds realistic enough, the two don’t seem to be buying it, and his untrustworthy, no-good stomach decides to betray him at that moment, growling loudly.

“Sounds like you're hungry, Kenny,” Craig comments, looking to Tweek. The two of them have this weird silent, psychic conversation, one that Kenny doesn’t seem to be part of. But the two of them simply exchange a few looks before Tweek’s lips quirk and he nods to a nearby table.

“Take a seat, man. Craig and I were just a-about to have something to eat, y-you’re welcome to join us.”

Kenny frowns, feeling himself about to object when Craig crowds into his space. Craig’s fingers and palm splay over the back of his shoulder, the taller boy pushing Kenny gently in the direction of the table. “Don’t argue, dude. Tweek won’t listen, he’s in mother hen mode,” there is a hint of teasing in Craig’s voice and Kenny can feel his back straighten in response.

He’s not entirely sure how or _why_ it happens, but Kenny finds himself sitting in Tweak Bros. at a table with two of the most unlikely people, sharing sandwiches. The bread is obviously freshly baked and crusty in the way only homemade bread can be. Kenny has no idea what is _inside_ the sandwiches, but he knows that Tweek has to be some kind of sandwich king.

Craig peels away a bit of crust from his sandwich, using it to pick up some mustard that dropped on his plate, and shoots another one of those telepathic glances at Tweek. When the other blond nods his head almost infinitesimally, Craig turns his attention to Kenny. “So.”

The weight of that ' _so_ ' pushes down on Kenny as a shiver runs down his spine. It's the type of shiver that alerts him of impending danger, and particularly right now with two sets of eyes trained on him, it feels like danger _of the emotional kind_. All at once he feels very much like the sandwich in his hand is bait and the coffee shop has transformed into some sort of trap.

"Ah, so...what? Great sandwich, Twizzler. Just A+ on the mustard-to-mayo ratio-" As Kenny rambles on, Tweek's face shifts into a strange look of concern.

"Kenny-" Tweek attempts to start, but Kenny is having none of it, his laugh cutting through the strange tension mounting at their little cafe table.

A large, warm hand settles over Kenny’s resting on the table top, Craig drawing the blond’s eyes back to him. “It’s okay, dude,” Craig’s even tone helps to settle Kenny’s nerves, even if it’s just a tiny bit, “We can just eat. Just the three of us. Eating sandwiches.”

Tweek's eyes narrow in that moment and Kenny isn't sure if he is reading the situation right, but it looks like the two of them are having very different ideas of where this conversation should go, like good cop, bad cop gone awry. But Kenny's shoulders drop with a heavy sigh as he stuffs some bread in his mouth, a frown on his lips.

He can tell, something important is trying to form in this moment, and as much as he is very thankful for Craig's kindness in attempting to drop it, he feels empowered by the hand resting on his.

"Aaahh, okay. Fine, I don't want Tweek's panties in a bunch," he chirps, pulling a ' _HEY_ ' from Tweek. "What was so important that you two needed to trap me with sandwiches?"

The faintest smile spreads over Craig’s features, earning himself another little huff from Tweek before he speaks, “We, uh...we wanted to check in with you. Make sure you were okay.”

“A-and eating,” Tweek adds, eyes going worried as he stares down at his sandwich.

An indescribable feeling begins to coil in Kenny’s stomach unrelated to the hunger that previously lived there. He sets his sandwich down, eyes meeting green before turning to aqua and finally settling on his own hands. He wants to laugh it off, to joke and pretend like he has been for so damn long. But in this moment, in this shop, with the two most unlikely people concerned about him, Kenny decides to try and talk about it.

"I haven't been," Kenny offers, his words quiet as he tries to ignore the way Tweek's fingers gripped Craig's hand at the side of the table at his admission.    
  
"Kyle's mom got weird about me being there so much. Randy took Stan on a camping trip; Butters dad caught me the other night and now he's grounded, so..." a little bittersweet smile twists his lips as he avoids their eyes. "I haven't had anywhere to really go."

Craig swallows almost audibly, head bobbing in a faint nod as he gives Tweek’s hand a squeeze back. “You can stay with us. Either of us.”

Tweek worries at his bottom lip and grips a strand of his hair before carefully tucking it behind his ear. “Y-yeah. I mean, my parents are k-kinda insane, but they don’t mind when Craig is over. You’re welcome a-any time.”

“Same. Mine won’t care. I’ve got plenty of room,” Craig’s hand settles back on top of Kenny’s, his thumb twitching to rub over the skin. “We’re here for you, Kenny.”

It is strange, Kenny feels the smallest of tingling sensation at his wrist, but chose to ignore it. Instead, he finds himself baffled. His heart feels ten times heavier than he ever remembers it feeling. When was it that these two people, who had always been civil to him yet not exactly in his circle, started caring more than his own closest friends? Did it happen without him noticing? Why hasn't he been paying more attention?

The excuses all of his friends delivered to him over time ring through his mind, hearing the reasons as to why he couldn't spend the night, or how being at dinner again wasn't something they could swing. Sure, in the beginning they were very supportive, but the moment he became some sort of burden, they had all turned their backs on him.

Kenny can't really understand why Tweek and Craig are both looking at him like this. Taking another leap of faith, he speaks. "You'll get tired of me," he starts as he watches Tweek bristle. "It'll become a nuisance, having me around will mess up your family dynamic." As Kenny parrots the reasons his friends gave him, he can feel his stomach lurch.

“I d-don’t have a family dynamic,” Tweek says evenly, an almost amused frown creasing his brow. “My whole family dynamic is listening to s-stupid, pointless anecdotes.”

“It’s true,” green eyes roll in amusement, “and Karen is at my house all the time. It wouldn’t be weird to have you, too.”

This information turns around in Kenny's mind, rendering him silent for a few moments. It is true, sadly, on both parts. Karen spends more time at the Tucker house than her own, thankfully, and Tweek? The entire town knows his family isn’t, well, to put it nicely...the cap isn't screwed on tightly there.

Kenny absently begins scratching at his wrist, that strange feeling continuing to buzz over his skin the more he thinks about their proposal. "I guess, it couldn't hurt?" he hears himself say before he’s aware his mouth is even moving.

Craig’s teeth flash in a tiny grin, a twin smile appearing on Tweek’s face. “I thought I was going to have to drag you over tonight,” releasing a breath, Craig slumps back in his chair, “it’s meatloaf night.”

Kenny finds himself grinning at that, their smiles infectious. "Meatloaf?" he questions before stuffing more sandwich in his mouth, "ya'll gonna make me fat feeding me this much. First sandwiches and then meatloaf? I feel spoiled."

\-----

It isn’t until many weeks later, weeks of the three of them spending more and more time together, weeks of their families strangely either welcoming him or ignoring him, weeks of smiles, laughter, that Kenny discovers the worst possible thing that could happen to him.

Normally, the blond wears his parka, long sleeved shirts, or bandaids to constantly cover up his marks. He is notorious for crushing on people and it is too hard to continuously explain to someone why their mark changes colors and easier to just cover them altogether. The rumors certainly do not need more fodder, that’s for sure.

It’s in the middle of a shower, when Kenny decides to change out the bandaids, that the blaring red catches his attention.

 **_Red_**.

Two deep red marks, side by side on his wrist.

He feels his stomach sink and his heart shatter, because he instantly knows who those two marks belong to, and he knows this is dangerous. Tweek and Craig have simply been kind, generous friends. He can understand if he developed a crush on one or both of them, because heaven knows Kenny knows a thing or three about crushes. But red? _Love_?

The blond can feel the tears coming as he snatches something to scrub his wrist with, a whimper of ‘ _no no no no no_ ’ coming from his mouth as he drags the rag aggressively against his skin. He scrubs harder and harder, his shoulders hitting the shower wall, his body sliding down the tile as he weeps.

The skin, even raw and angry, still shows the marks against his now bleeding arm. It should be a happy feeling taking him over, fucking euphoric at finding _true love_ , but he knows if anyone is to see these, they would react with a shock and indignation like they would to the twin black marks on his other wrist.

“What’s _wrong_ with me?” Kenny cries into his knees as the hot water beats the top of his head, mixing with the salty tears that now flowed from him freely.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the hot water to turn ice cold or his body to run out of tears, but he stays huddled in the corner of the shower stall, teeth chattering through silent sobs as he wishes his heart could feel as numb as his frigid skin. 


	2. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been two months since Kenny found the red marks on his skin, two months since he cut off all ties with Tweek and Craig. Sure, they had tried to talk to him, invited him over, slipped notes in his locker when he pointedly avoided them, but Kenny simply shut them down. Two months and the damned marks still haven’t changed. It is starting to frustrate him; he thought the more distance he put between them, the less they interacted, the more likely the marks would fade, since obviously it was a mistake in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to start off by saying we do not condone the use of derogatory language or slurs. But this chapter has a trigger warning for homophobic language and we wanted it to be clear that though there are people out there that use this language, we do not. It was part of a scene that was very hard to write, but realistically would go much like that. So to be true to all of those who have been through what Kenny is going through, we wanted to write it real and raw.
> 
> Now that we have that out of the way. Welcome back, and we’re very very sorry for the pain you’re about to be exposed to. Remember, we love you, and if you’re ever in a situation like this, please please, do not go through it alone.

It’s been two months since Kenny found the red marks on his skin, two months since he cut off all ties with Tweek and Craig. Sure, they had tried to talk to him, invited him over, slipped notes in his locker when he pointedly avoided them, but Kenny simply shut them down. Two months and the damned marks still haven’t changed. It is starting to frustrate him; he thought the more distance he put between them, the less they interacted, the more likely the marks would fade, since obviously it was a mistake in the first place.

His friends, for one, were an already well-established couple, together longer than any of the other dating pairs he knew. They had just been friendly, neighborly to him, and how did Kenny thank them?

_No_. He would continue to stay away from them. They don’t need him and eventually that fascination, that worry, would die out and like everyone else, they would move on.

Kenny finds himself in the bathroom during lunch, glaring at himself in the mirror. He gave Karen his lunch money again and is currently attempting to ignore the hunger pains caused by his decision. Dipping his head down, he cups his hands under the water in the sink and washes his face. Sometimes the cool water helps to clear his head or ignore the different problems plaguing him, just for a moment. He pauses to glare down at the bandages on his wrists. Among his numerous marks on open display, he now has four hidden. Prying his eyes away, he grabs a paper towel to dry his face. 

The door creaking open doesn’t faze him until he sees the silhouettes of two people approaching him, the taller of the two closing in on him.

“Alright, what the fuck, Kenny?” Craig’s voice is cold, the faintest hint of concern lingering on his name.

His eyes widen in the mirror, watching as Tweek pushes the door shut and twists the lock. Tweek crosses his arms, his expression schooled, but it isn't hard to see through that to the annoyance simmering just under the surface.

Kenny turns his attention to Craig and offers a fake smile, trying his best to shield the way his heart is twisting in his chest at seeing them both. "Why, I have no idea what you're referring to, Craigory."

“Don’t bullshit me, dude,” Craig’s voice drops, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he stares down at Kenny with narrowed eyes. “You ghosted on us. You’ve been ignoring us for two fucking months.”

“Ghosting?” Kenny knits his eyebrows, hands coming up in a pacifying gesture. “I haven’t been ignoring anyone, I’ve just been busy.” He hates the feeling of the lie on his tongue, but it’s better than watching them give him the same pitiful look Stan and Kyle did so many months ago.

“That’s such a load of shit, and you know it,” Craig moves to take a step forward, instead stopping mid-step and running a hand through his hair in frustration. “The fact that we had to practically corner you in the bathroom is proof enough. Tweek and I?” he gestures back to his boyfriend before rounding on Kenny again, “we care about you. We can tell you’re not okay, and the fact that you’re actively avoiding us is...” Craig trails off, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “We fucking care, Kenny.”

"It's disconcerting how you just...disappeared on us," Tweek adds, his eyes look the blond up and down, very apparent that he's taking in Kenny's disheveled appearance. "Kenny, where have you been? Are you even sleeping? You look t-terrible."

Kenny feels overwhelmed, and he doesn't know who to look at or what to attempt to answer first. The lies are on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't know how to spit them out.  His fingers grasp at the front of his shirt, eyes narrowing as he looks away from both of them, smiling all the while. "Hey hey hey, y’all can calm down. I'm fine. I'm just kinda tired."

He takes a few steps away from Craig, almost backing into a hand dryer as he hears Tweek scoff in disbelief, "No really, I've just had a lot more shifts at work. I'm just…I'm just busy." His chest tightens, his head swims, and Kenny feels poisoned by these red marks hidden under the bandages on his left arm. He curses them, wishing he could rip them and the black ones off of his skin.  
  
"Kenny," Craig's entire posture changes, his eyes and voice sounding almost soft despite how upset he still clearly is, "we're not mad, we're worried.  I haven't seen you eat lunch in like two weeks. I know you're showering in the locker rooms."

"P-please, just tell us what's happening.  No judgment, we just want to help," Tweek moves closer, anxiously rubbing at his arm.

"I-I..." Kenny feels the words catch in his throat, he feels crowded, closed in. He shakes his head and tries to push his way past Craig, the taller boy grabbing for his wrist on instinct.

It's within a heartbeat that Kenny realizes what's happening and he's powerless to stop it. As he pulls his arm back, the bandaids covering his wrist shift and fall off of the skin from overuse and pressure.

The two black marks, what they mean, hang in the silence of the room, a constant reminder of the love lost in Kenny's heart. He hasn't shared this with anyone outside of Karen and Kevin, he hasn't even told Stan and Kyle. Not after that look, the _pity_.

Kenny braces himself, his eyes falling to the tile on the ground as he feels his eyes start to burn.

Their breathing is the only sound, bouncing off the tiled walls and floor as the silence stretches out until Kenny almost can't take it.  He doesn't want more pity, doesn't need people he cares about to feel sorry for him. He is already the poor kid, the chronic flirt covered in colorful marks but no one to calls his own.  The sting in his eyes grows sharper with each lingering second of silence, the hand on his wrist not letting go.

Kenny's eyes snap up to Craig at the delicate swipe of a thumb over the marks on his wrist, taller boy changing his grip to cradle the back of Kenny's hand in his palm. Craig's forehead is scrunched up in a way that Kenny, over time, has learned to translate into worry and sadness, dark eyebrows tipping together and eyes betraying the thoughts that are undoubtedly rushing through his head.

"I'm so sorry," Craig's words finally break the spell over the bathroom, his thumb continuing its steady brush of comfort over Kenny's marred skin.  "I can't imagine..."

"Kenny," Tweek approaches with trepidation and presses himself to Craig's side as he rests his palm over Kenny's wrist, covering the marks with his warm hand, "i-is this why you pulled away? Because you didn't want the same thing to happen to us?"

Kenny isn’t sure how or what to say to them. How does he tell someone else that his parents beat the shit out of him when they’re high or drunk? That he could easily escape the torment they put him through, but he doesn’t in fear that they’ll target Karen. That he still has hope that somewhere, deep inside, they love him?

How does he explain that the love he once felt for his parents oozed into toxicity the first time they betrayed that love, turned it into venom in his veins? _How?_ How do you explain starvation, living in the woods so not to be a bother to the people whose yellow marks claim to love you, yet abandon you when you need them the most?

How does he explain that you go back to this place, time and time again, wishing and hoping in your heart, that the marks will change back to white and the people who birthed you will love you again, only to be met with cold stares and hatred?

Kenny worries his bottom lip between his teeth, the familiar copper taste flooding his senses when he bites too hard at the tender flesh. “I...”

He doesn’t even know how to admit this? Even the red marks burning bright under the other bandaids fill his stomach with shame, his heart crushing, because he doesn’t deserve the love of one person, let alone _two_. His parents prove as much every day.

"Hey," Craig raises his other hand and cups Kenny's jaw, "we're not going to let that happen, okay? Tweek and I aren't going anywhere."  Crowding into his space, Craig pulls Kenny to his chest and tucks the blond's head under his chin. "Promise."

Another arm slipped around Kenny's waist, Tweek's fingers tensing against his back in a gesture of comfort. "I-I know it doesn't seem like something we can promise. Not after everything you've been through, but...I mean it, and I know Craig does, too.  We're not going anywhere, Kenny."

Kenny hasn't felt this level of love radiating off of people since that night when this all started, and he's instantly reminded of Kevin and Karen and it tugs his heart.

He must be confused. The marks on his skin must have gotten familial love and romantic love, _true love_ , crossed somewhere along the way. Kenny allows himself this excuse, melting into the affection, letting himself feel safe for a moment.

It's been a while since anyone beyond his siblings has touched him and Kenny basks in it. He's quiet for a while, but after a steady couple of minutes of just existing, he takes in a shaky breath.

"My parents," he starts his voice strong with resolve, "it's why I wear the parka, because of the bruises. And before you say anything, I can't leave. If I do, they'll take it out on Karen." Kenny pulls away a bit, looking up to Craig before glancing to the left to give Tweek the same expression.

Kenny doesn't find pity in their eyes and that alone keeps his mouth moving, "They beat the shit out of me sometimes, other times they just berate me, and sometimes nothing at all. They pretend I don't exist. They aren't too keen on the idea that I stopped lovin' them, so they focus everything on me."

Craig’s jaw tightens, Kenny almost able to hear his teeth grinding together at the admission. His hand continues to rest at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, normally steady fingers now shaking against Kenny’s exposed skin.   
  
“How could they...” Tweek’s words seem to mirror Craig’s sentiment, voice carrying the rage flaring in his boyfriend’s eyes. “My parents are shit, but they wouldn’t...not like that.”   
  
“You trusted them,” the words tumble out of Craig, an ice cold edge permeating his words. “They’re supposed to keep you safe, not...not _this_.”

“I don’t know,” Kenny answers, his voice even, though his heart is racing. “That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since I was eleven.”

The silence returns, Craig's green eyes appearing almost acidic the longer he stared down at Kenny, and that look alone sends a shiver down the blond's spine.  "...What?"  
  
" _E-elven_?" Tweek is back to gnawing at his lip, shaking his head as tears start welling up in his eyes.  "Kenny..."   
  
"You can't stay there," Craig's monotone hitches on the last word, a new set of emotions Kenny rarely see from the taller boy bubbling to the surface. "You and Karen, you _can't_."

“We don’t when we have somewhere else to go,” Kenny starts, purposely avoiding both sets of eyes for different reasons. He swallows, his throat feeling dry suddenly. “Karen can stay with people more often, when she’s out I...don’t go home.” He pauses, not explaining _where_ he’s going. “But when she is there? I have to be,” there is a finality to his tone, as if there would be no arguing with him. 

Craig's eyes meet Tweek's, the small blond giving his boyfriend a quick nod before Craig turns back to Kenny, his hand still pressing warmth against his neck.  "Then when she's not home, you're with us."

That weird feeling in his chest burns it’s way into his attention, unable to ignore it. _Why? Why did they care so much?_  The words nag in the back of his mind, repeating like a broken record.   
  
“Why are you doing this?” he finally asks, his eyes squinting to look at them skeptically. “We’re friends sure, but even my best friends stopped wanting me around.” Kenny pushes himself out of Craig and Tweek’s radius, his feet scuff against the tile floor making a loud noise in the quiet bathroom. “I don’t deserve this, what does it even matter anyway?”

"Kenny..." Tweek's hand remains outstretched when the other blond pulls away.  
  
"Because you're our friend, because it matters that you've been hiding bruises under your clothes," Craig raises his hands to his hair, dropping them as if he doesn't know what to _do_.  "And no one deserves _this_ ," he gestures at Kenny's wrist, "especially not from their parents…”

“Heh, everyone in this shitty town is dealing with some sort of dysfunction.” Kenny mummers as he rubs his hand over the black on his wrist. “But no matter what I do, they’re still family and maybe...”  
  
“Maybe what?” Tweek asks, his hand moving to grip at Craig’s shirt sleeve to attempt to calm his boyfriend down.   
  
“That maybe they’ll realize what they’ve been doing, that they’ll wake up one day and we can be a normal family again.” Kenny’s fingers move over the black marks one last time, his eyebrows knitting. “That maybe this color will change back to white?”

Tweek blinks hard several times, fingers twisting firmly in his hair and using his sleeve to catch the tears that spill from his eyes.  "Maybe...but it's not happening right now. A-and maybe one day you'll be able to, but you...you have to make sure you even _get_ to that point first..."

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Craig's shoulders relax a fraction, green eyes still steely.  "They're hurting you, Kenny."

“Better me than Karen. Hell, better me than Kevin,” Kenny’s nose wrinkles before he’s leaning his shoulder against the cold tile of the wall. His hand raises to run fingers through his hair, shaking his head.  
  
“I know you’re right, I know you are,” Kenny sighs out, his chest tightening at the sight before him. It hurts to watch others be in pain, and it hurts worse to know he is the reason they are hurting.   
  
“Hey, please don’t cry Tweek,” Kenny offers him a smile, “I’m not dead.” There’s a moment when Kenny remembers the times his parents, more appropriately his father, went too far and he _ended up dead_. And he’s coldly reminded why it has to be him.   
  
Others don’t come back from that like he does.   
  
“Listen. I’ll stop, uh, working so much, and hang out with you guys more again. Will that work?” Kenny’s eyes glance to the ground before he looks back up, the throb of the skin hidden under his bandaids pushing him to ask.   
  
“But only if you can answer me one thing,” taking a deep breath, Kenny pushes himself off the wall, “What am I to you? What color are my marks on your arms?” 

"Only if you promise," Tweek lowers his hand from his hair, dutifully unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and pushing it up to his elbow.  A rosy pink mark sits among a cluster of white dashes, splashes of buttercup yellow interspersed randomly between them. He brought his finger to his forearm and placed it over a yellow line.  "This is you," Tweek clasps his hand over the skin, giving it a faint squeeze and turning to Craig.

The taller boy shoves his shirt sleeve up, just below the crook of his elbow, displaying a sea of yellow with bits of white.  A vibrant band of crimson sits nestled alongside the yellow and occasional white, and Craig's thumb brushes the mark before pointing to a yellow bar at the center of his arm.

Kenny’s jaw sets as his stomach clenches hard. What was he expecting? Pink? _Red_ to match his? Ridiculous. He knows better, but something about seeing it in person makes his heart hurt. He knows his marks are a mistake; his heart has to just be confused.   
  
“I promise, and thank you for showing me. I feel a little better,” He lies, but in a way it’s nice to know their friendship is strong enough to create a yellow mark. That alone does make him feel a little better.

"We care, dude," Craig scratches at his arm almost self-consciously before smoothing a hand through his hair.  "You're our friend, and we just want you to be safe."  
  
Tweek rolls down his sleeve, a little smile pulling at his lips as he buttons the cuff once more, "And if that means off-menu sandwiches and sneaking you coffee and tea, then so be it."   
  
"What about you?" Craig's voice pulls Kenny away from staring at the red line crossing the taller boy's forearm. 

Kenny’s blood runs cold before he laughs and pulls up his sleeves to show all the colors that mare his arms, a mirage of yellows and white, a few pinks that seem to be fading into yellow again and one blue that he feels an annoyed pang when he sees.   
  
“I’ve had a ton of crushes so don’t judge me too harshly. It ain’t like I show my arms a lot,” he doesn’t mention the bandaids covering marks on his left wrist, instead pushing his fingers along the different yellows and whites. “Take your pick,” he jokes.

Tweek takes a step closer, tilting his head as he stares down at the multitude of marks.  "Mmm, I think I like these two," he points to two yellow lines next to each other, offering Kenny a smile, "looks like we have a matching set, huh?"   
  
"Looks like it," Craig echos, and when Kenny finally meets his eyes, the anger is nearly gone, bubbling just under the surface of Craig's stoic demeanor. _Worry_ , he realizes takes its place; _concern_. "So you better not bail on us again."

Kenny smiles and shrugs his shoulders, “I like the idea of matching.” He extends a hand and pokes Tweek in the cheek, feeling a little lighter now. He smiles as he reaches up to Craig as the taller boy radiates concern, flicking his nose softly.  
  
Maybe it won’t be so bad to have red marks for them? It isn’t like people know too much about red anyway. It isn’t like blue, when the person has zero interest and it isn’t like pink, where it had to be romantic. No, red is a mystery, with so many people looking at it from different perspectives. The panic he felt before, upon seeing the marks for the first time, starts to slowly lift off of his heart.   
  
Kenny decides in that moment that red symbolizes friends who love so strongly that they won’t leave. And he’s okay with that. “I promise I won’t.” 

"Good," Craig says simply, scrunching up his face at the flick to his nose.  "You're stuck with us, McCormick. Tweek will force feed you muffins if he has to."  
  
"He's right, I will," the small blond nudges Kenny's shoulder with his own. Tweek walks toward the bathroom door, turning to wait for Craig and Kenny to catch up. "It's lunch. You're eating with us. No buts."   
  
Craig takes a step back from Kenny, pulling down his sleeve once more and taking Tweek's hand in his. "Come on, dude.  I'm buying."   
  
Kenny's heart clenches in his chest, a warmth radiating out with each beat, and something buzzing furiously in the back of his mind. Kenny swears when Craig pulled his sleeve down, he saw a mark hidden away just under his shirt cuff. As he follows them to the bathroom door, jokes of PDA rules if he was going to join their little band of misfits on his tongue, he convinces himself  it had to be a trick of the light, a strangely placed shadow. Because there was no way the little line concealed on Craig's arm could be pink.

\-----  
  
It's another bad night. Not that most nights aren’t bad, but this particular night is one of the worst. His parents started off fighting, God knows what the fight was initially about, but it escalated swiftly to topics Kenny wishes he’d never been subjected to. What’s worse is that Kevin was pulling a late shift and Karen was spending the night at an all-girls slumber party. Which left Kenny alone in the house with _them_.

The night didn’t start off with fighting. At first it had just been him and his mom, enjoying comfortable silence in the living room, the dull hum of the TV playing whatever it was she was watching. Then with a crash of the front door, his father arrived out of the blue and drunk as a skunk.

Now Kenny finds himself stuck on the couch as his parents scream at each other. He knows if he moves it’ll only draw more attention to himself, so he burrows down into his oversized parka, pulling the hood, and praying they’ll ignore him.

But Kenny is never so lucky. It’s a word that gets his attention, a name really: _Craig_. He isn’t sure he’s heard it at first but then he hears _Tweek_ and both names followed by a slur he doesn’t want to admit came from his father, and he pulls down his hood harder.

“I saw those homos parading around again today. Walking around like they belong out in the open, spreading their nasty ass homosexual agenda everywhere they go. Those fags make me sick.”

An anger surges from the depths of Kenny’s soul. His _dead beat, child beating, drug addled_ , asshole of a father had no right calling them anything. Their names shouldn’t even be on his lips.

Kenny clenches his fist; he doesn’t want to get into it with his father again, but the more the old man goes off, the less control Kenny has over his mouth.

“Fags shouldn’t be so proud, what they got to be proud about? Fuckin’ another man in the ass ain’t nothing but shit. They’re parents should be ashamed. What’s Thomas thinkin’? I know the Tweak’s ain’t got two brain cells between them, but Tucker should beat that boy ‘til he learns how to be straight again.” His mother, for once, isn’t a part of the conversation. She’s tight lipped and trying her best to play the part of a silent doll, all fight gone out of her. She’s left hollow, nothing but big eyes and obedience. Maybe she too didn’t want to anger him more, Kenny isn’t sure, but he’s up off the couch and she’s staring at him now.

Something in her eyes begs him _not to do it, not over this, not now._ But Kenny won’t stand for this, not when Tweek and Craig have been nothing but kind and generous to him. Even after he ghosted them, they didn't give up on him.

Kenny’s stomach twists as his mouth goes dry, his body shaking with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. One last time, his mind begs him not to engage, not to let his father’s homophobic works get under his skin. But to no avail, as he can almost feel the red lines on his arms burning in righteous indignation. Before he even knows it, before he can stop it, his mouth is opening. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t even know them.” Kenny spits in his father’s direction, he pulls his jacket off, ready for whatever is coming next.

His father seems shocked, has the gall to gawk at his middle child. “What did you say, boy?”

“I said stop talking about them like that. They’re good people. They’re the best kind of people, and you’re a homophobic piece of shit for talking like that.” Kenny puffs his chest out, standing straight. His mom’s mouth is open, but zero words fall out, clearly as shocked as his father.

“You a fag, boy?” Stuart asks as he takes a step forward, “that why you’re defending them?”

“Now Stuart, don’t go sayin’ that. Kenny ain’t gay” his mom interjects, trying for once to placate his father to Kenny’s surprise. “They’re just his little friends, humor him. He don’t know what he’s sayin’.”

“I know damn well what I’m saying, old man,” Kenny snaps, his eyes narrowing, fists clenched tightly and shaking at his sides. “I’m saying that gay people, they’re some of the nicest and accepting people I’ve ever met. They don’t deserve what people like you throw at them, and I won’t sit back while you call them dirty slurs!”

Carol steps away from her husband, eyes darting to Kenny’s shaking forearms and shakes her head minutely. It’s her action that has Stuart looking down. Kenny never, never allows his arms to be bare around them. But in his anger, he’s done the unthinkable.

Rainbows of colors litter his bare arms. Yellows, pinks, whites, black, and _two_ red. He hadn’t covered them back up after his last shower, a mistake, he thinks, as his father’s eyes fill with something more hateful than Kenny has ever experienced before.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Stuart states calmly, too calm. His voice is steady, a seething anger just under the surface.

“Now Stuart—” his mom starts, but the man wants none of it. He jerks his hand up, causing her to flinch away.

“Seems our son is a queer, and I don’t want no queer in my house,” Stuart’s voice raises as he points to Kenny’s arm. “I ain’t an idiot, boy. I know why you’re defending those little fags now.” His lip curls in disgust as Kenny’s eyes glance down at his uncovered arms.

“You probably let them fuck you. Now, I knew mosta them rumors floating round town couldn’t have been true. You sneakin’ round boys’ houses, sniffin’ up their trees. But I got to realizin’ you ain’t never home, boy. And two and two makes four, don’t it? Look at your arms. You’re a nasty whore, no way to hide that. Now how does that reflect on your mama an’ me?”

A silence falls over the room, the air charged between the three of them, words Kenny never thought he’d hear from his father pounding repeatedly in his mind. They hurt worse than any fist could ever, and he tries his best not to cry. His mom stays quiet, doesn’t deny she feels the same way. And in that moment, if his marks hadn’t already been charcoal, he knows they’d have turned all over again.

“You never loved me,” Kenny starts, his eyes downcast as two tears slide off his lashes and onto his cheeks. “You beat me, belittled me, harassed me,” Kenny laughs, no humor in his tone. “But through it all, I thought you might somewhere inside, might love me.”

His blue eyes glaze over as he looks at them both, shaking his head. “But you don’t. You couldn’t. Because you don’t even _know me_.”

It takes him a total of fifteen minutes to pack his entire life into his backpack. It takes another five to get past his already abusive father, one last fist connecting with his forehead before his mother intervenes and Kenny has the chance to run.

Another ten. Another ten and Kenny is standing, swaying, blood dripping down his face in front of Tweek’s house. He knows Tweek’s parents won’t think twice, won’t ask questions. Not like the Tucker’s. He imagines the look on Craig’s mom’s face; Mrs. Tucker was always so kind to him. In no way did he want to subject her to this.

The doorbell sounds almost deafening to his ears, a faint buzz staying long after he presses the button, and he wonders if he has a concussion.

The door opens a moment later, the bright smile on Tweek’s face instantly contorting into something terrified, “O-oh my God, _Kenny_!”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the pain, it only gets worse before it gets better.


End file.
